// Start a tiny riot //
He leans into the cup of her hands like it's the first touch he's ever known, like her fingers alone could teach him how to be held. He savors the drag of her thumb across his lips, how it leaves a soft tingle in its wake—every point of contact still sparking with something electric. For a long, slow breath, he just soaks her in. Her laughter still echoing faintly through him, her breath against his skin, the radiance of her smile, the way she looks at him like he might actually be enough.
A nearly inaudible sound leaves him, part hum, part sigh, as her nose brushes his with something intimate. He tilts into her more, chasing it, but she's on the move with a trail of kisses, each one something she's sealing into him that won't ever be removed. "Damn," he breathes, his voice still thick with spent wonder. "Guess I’ll have to keep trying until I get it right," he grins, slow and sharp at the corners, like he’s plotting a rematch. That stirs a whisper in his mind of what's next, what changes now, what they’ve done to each other that can’t be undone. He shoves it down. Now is still theirs, and he's going to hang onto every second of it.
He stretches with a groan, the kind that rumbles up from somewhere deep. "Hard agree. I’m not sure I’ll ever walk again," he says with put on dramatics, all an excuse to press her closer to him on the floor. Her nose brushing his again draws warmth through him, another contented sigh breaking free. As her lips find his, as she says that, he can't help but move, even if every part of him is still too steeped in the afterglow to approve of it.
He props himself up slightly, one arm braced beside her, the other sliding up her side until his hand cradles her face, reverent with each motion. His thumb glides along her cheekbone, careful and purposeful, like he could press every bit of his adoration into that single touch. His eyes remain fixed on hers, full of everything she means. "You're really good," he murmurs, aware it's utterly cheesy even as he says it, a soft laugh puffing free before he kisses her. It's not with urgency, but with everything that’s trembling inside him. It starts deep and grows deeper, as if there’s something in it too big to say aloud. Gratitude. Devotion. Wonder. Love, not yet named, not in that manner, but there all the same.
He breaks it and presses his forehead to hers, inhaling for a minute before pulling back to look at her. "C'mon Flo-ro, let's shower, or skinny dip, but either way we're getting wet."
A nearly inaudible sound leaves him, part hum, part sigh, as her nose brushes his with something intimate. He tilts into her more, chasing it, but she's on the move with a trail of kisses, each one something she's sealing into him that won't ever be removed. "Damn," he breathes, his voice still thick with spent wonder. "Guess I’ll have to keep trying until I get it right," he grins, slow and sharp at the corners, like he’s plotting a rematch. That stirs a whisper in his mind of what's next, what changes now, what they’ve done to each other that can’t be undone. He shoves it down. Now is still theirs, and he's going to hang onto every second of it.
He stretches with a groan, the kind that rumbles up from somewhere deep. "Hard agree. I’m not sure I’ll ever walk again," he says with put on dramatics, all an excuse to press her closer to him on the floor. Her nose brushing his again draws warmth through him, another contented sigh breaking free. As her lips find his, as she says that, he can't help but move, even if every part of him is still too steeped in the afterglow to approve of it.
He props himself up slightly, one arm braced beside her, the other sliding up her side until his hand cradles her face, reverent with each motion. His thumb glides along her cheekbone, careful and purposeful, like he could press every bit of his adoration into that single touch. His eyes remain fixed on hers, full of everything she means. "You're really good," he murmurs, aware it's utterly cheesy even as he says it, a soft laugh puffing free before he kisses her. It's not with urgency, but with everything that’s trembling inside him. It starts deep and grows deeper, as if there’s something in it too big to say aloud. Gratitude. Devotion. Wonder. Love, not yet named, not in that manner, but there all the same.
He breaks it and presses his forehead to hers, inhaling for a minute before pulling back to look at her. "C'mon Flo-ro, let's shower, or skinny dip, but either way we're getting wet."
Kaisel
// Stop being so goddamn quiet //
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
